Sisters of Tevinter

Scrawlings

  Jor pressed her back to the wooden door of her suite, pushing it closed with a satisfying click as she slid down with a relieved sigh. She rose after a moment of weary silence, afternoon light crossing the stairs and illuminating the chamber, left cold by mountain chill. 

  They had returned to Skyhold finally, to the Inquisitor's great relief.  Her whole body ached, everything was happening so slowly, the journey had taken most of the day on horseback. She strode up the stairs, intent to collapse on her bed and not get up until tomorrow, but something caught her eye. 

  There, on her desk, lay a single almond colored envelope sealed with yellow wax. Curiously, she approached the desk and sat down on her velvet stool, curling her legs beneath her as she slit open the envelope. 

    She drew the creamy parchment from its fold. 

   Dearest Inquisitor,

       You'll have to tell me everything about the ball, I find myself want for gossip and entertaining tales these days. I am well, thank you for inquiring. I was surprised to receive your letter, though not unpleasantly so.

   Jor beamed. 

      I am busy in the Chantry to the East, they keep me rather contained when I am not travelling from convent to monastery. I've met some of the most fascinating people, I'll tell you more if you wish to hear it. Tell me, how does Dorian fare? My father? You wrote of his words to me. I was touched and I can only thank you through the meager means of ink. It's not enough, but I wish to express the gratitude with which I received contact from the outside world. Is the front growing as dangerous as the rumors say? I can only pray for your safety and those of your companions. May the Inquisition emerge victorious from every strife. 

    Write to me again when you have the time. 

     Gratefully, 

         Ambassador Felix of Redcliffe, Heir to the Magistrate

   Jor set aside the letter carefully, admiring the neat handwriting with good-natured envy as she pulled a slip of parchment from the stack at her desk. She dipped her eagle feather quill in its blue ink and began to scrawl. 

   Hello Felix, 

      I pray for your health as you pray for the Inquisition. Your letter arrived just in time to catch me before a sour nap, improving my mood greatly. I've returned to Skyhold from Halamshiral and boy h o w d y, want for entertainment no longer...

     Kaisen was perched at the edge of Cullen's desk, leaning to look down over her shoulder and observe the flowing, commanding cursive that fell from his quill. "What are you doing?" 

    Cullen smiled patiently. "The same thing as when you asked me just moments ago, my lady."

   "Do reports always take this long?" 

   "Sometimes longer. I cannot spare detail." 

   Kaisen trailed her finger absently over the dusty wood of his desk, leaving a smooth streak in the silvery particles. "We just got back." 

   "The relevance escapes me, I'm sure." 

    The Crow scoffed. "Aren't you tired?" 

    "...Yes." 

   "This can wait until tomorrow." 

    "It could. But I do not believe tomorrow's vision of me will appreciate the gesture." He looked up from his work, weary and amused. "You do not have to wait for me."